


The Darkest of Hearts

by Sleepysadpoet



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepysadpoet/pseuds/Sleepysadpoet
Summary: Dragonborn are faced with many quests, opportunities, and problems. But they're powerful, like the dragons themselves. The dovahkiin (dragonborn) legend has been told from the dawn of time. But after the banishing of Alduin, no one suspected one to rise. Much less a dark elf, one of the most hated races in Skyrim..She arrived at a bad time, the civil war between the imperials and stormcloaks raging on, the death of High King Torygg and rebellion of the infamous Ulfric Stormcloak. The rise of the thieves guild and the dark brotherhood. Hell broke loose in Skyrim, and she was first to blame.Can her dark heart shed light on Skyrim?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Leaving Morrowind was a hard thing for me to do. Growing up there, I had two siblings; one was older, left for the imperial army. Perhaps I'll see him here in Skyrim. The other, she's only seven. My mother's raising her alone.. Father was murdered when she was just a baby. We never found his killer. 

When Daxel (my brother) left for Skyrim, he didn't bother to tell us. We found out from one of his friends. Why he would leave his homeland to join a war that doesn't even involve us, that was unknown. But I don't blame him for leaving.

Why am I going? 

I need to start fresh. I'm tired of Morrowind. The climate extremes of "too cold" or "too dry, too humid," became bothersome, boring, even. 

"Outsider." A deep voice called out to me from the woods. Instinct told me I was in trouble, so I immediately pulled out my trusty blade, Onyx- an ebony great sword, enchanted with fire. "No need for that, put the blade down." The strange man came into view. An imperial legate. "You're from Morrowind, correct?" 

I nodded, sheathing my blade. "Yes, my brother joined the imperial army, sir. A while ago." 

"We don't have many dark elves... What's his name?"

"Daxel Razorheart." I was almost afraid that he would tell me Daxel was dead, though it was expected of anyone who joined the war. 

"Ah, he's a praefect. Stationed in Solitude with General Tullius. Good man." The nord grinned. "Are you looking to join? If you're anything like your brother, we could use you. Given that you bought better armor, of course." 

I looked down at my beaten and weathered leather armor. I've had it since I was a teenager. Enchantment of stealth and health fortification. I last longer in fights with it. Which probably explains why I need new armor.

"I'm not sure I'm war material, sir. Even with better armor." I shook my head. 

"That's a shame. You should think about it. Where are you headed?" 

"Ivarstead." 

"Oh, that's not far. Just a few miles ahead. Do you know how to get there? It's basically a straight shot. Might run into some skeevers. And a nasty old troll that's been outside of Ivarstead for years." He saw the look on my face after he mentioned the troll and laughed. "Just joking with you, miss. Not about the skeevers. The troll. There was one a long time ago. Before this nasty war started, even.." The legate shook his head. "Anyway, like I said. Visit us in Solitude. I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind seeing you. And get some new armor as soon as you get to town." 

I nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"And get some rest. You've got darker grey bags under your eyes than your skin color. The Vilemyr inn has some nice rooms, real cheap. Ten septims a night." 

Once more, I nodded, saluting him as he finally walked away. 

I don't really have a side in the war. Daxel might be an imperial, but that's probably because he found out how poorly elves are treated here. Don't get me wrong, that nord was actually nice. But I learned a few things about Skyrim before I came here. Read a few books. Asked travelers that came through my homeland. Why the hell they would want to be there, I'll never understand, but that's on them. I lived there for my whole life and envied Daxel when he got to leave. Not that he exactly asked to. Mother would never allow it. And Daxel isn't fond of following the rules.

Walking on, I was indeed ambushed by skeevers. Because I've always been good with my sword, it only took a couple of strikes for them to go down. I searched their bodies and noticed one had an amethyst, but collected both tails as well. Might need them for poisons later. 

When I got to Ivarstead, a thief in black bumped into me. "Excuse me?" 

The man, when I looked closely, was argonian. He shook his head, mouthing 'Sorry,' and shoving a handful of gold in my hands, taking off.

"She's the thief! That dark elf!" A woman yelled from one of the buildings. "See that gold? She's working with the argonian thief."

"No, no, ma'am, didn't you see him shove it in my hands?" I asked. I was then approached by a Stormcloak guard. The bear on his shield and armor told me he was a Stormcloak, at least. 

"Just got here and you're stealing from us already, huh, elf?" The guard, I discovered, was actually female! You really can't tell in that heavy armor. She snatched the stolen gold. "You should have stayed in Morrowind.."

"I didn't take it, miss. I was just walking through. Promise." I clenched my fists at my sides. "That thief that ran through here was who took it, he bumped into me." 

A middle aged nord stepped off of the Vilemyr inn porch. "She's telling the truth. Bassianus was the first to point out the argonian scum running out of the alchemist shop. Probably had potions in his bag too." 

The guard turned to him. "You're a nord. Why would you defend an Outsider?"

"Because I could care less about the war." The man said. "I have no hatred for anyone." 

The guard shook her head. "You're a disgrace to your race. Elf, I won't arrest you. This time. But if I see anything remotely close to what just happened, I will." She pushed past me, heading to Vilemyr inn. 

"I'm sorry. Not all of us are like that. I'm Klimmek, by the way. I live with Bassianus at that house behind you. Are you looking to stay in one place, or are you a drifter?"

Dov! Ah! Kiin.

There was a rush of wind coming from the mountain above us, almost knocking me over. 

"The hell was that?" I blurted out. 

"I haven't heard that in years... I always assumed that the greybeards were casting spells. I take food up to them, on the top of the mountain, see, I don't even see them. There's plenty of nasty weather up there, it's colder, snows twice as much. The greybeards never leave their home up there. Can't say I blame them, with the war going on and all. It's weird to hear them. Dov means dragon. A dragon destroyed the town of Helgen, out west from here, a month or so ago. It was almost unbelievable." Klimmek looked up towards the mountain.

"These... greybeards. Are they actual people, or some sort of spirits?" I wasn't sure what to believe, but I was definitely sure I needed a drink.

"People.. Not that anyone who's still alive has actually spoken to them. Anyway, it's getting rather dark, I should go inside. You should go check out a room in the inn over there."

I nodded. "Yes, I probably should. You have a good night."

"Will you be here tomorrow?" 

"Unlikely. I'm going to get some new armor then head out."

"Oh, alright. Nice meeting you, miss.." He was unsure of what to call me.

"Demaia Razorheart." 

"Oh, yes. Is Daxel Razorheart your brother? I thought you looked familiar."

By Azura, does everyone in Skyrim know my brother? He was well known in Morrowind, too.

"Yes, he is. I'm hoping to see him soon." I replied with a yawn. "It was nice meeting you, Klimmek. If I see you tomorrow, I'll be sure to say hello."

"Headed up to the mountaintop for the greybeards. The seven thousand steps." 

"With this gear, I doubt I'd make it up a thousand steps," I laughed. 

Klimmek smiled. "Goodnight." 

I nodded to him and walked inside the inn, quick to pay for a room and go to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuck you Mars @catharsenist

Upon leaving Ivarstead, I made a note to do some reading about those 'Greybeards.' I don't have the time to climb the 7,000 steps, nor do I know what I would be facing on the way. I'm sure I'd defend myself just fine, but I don't know that I want to take any chances. And who's to say that they would open their doors to a stranger? 

I had no clue where I was headed from there, if I'll be honest. I decided to just walk, see where my feet lead me. Outside of a large town called Riften, I witnessed a nord being beaten by a bunch of high elves in golden robes. 

We've never had any situations like that in Morrowind, so I was almost surprised, but then I remembered that there is a war going on, and the nord was probably a prisoner or a bandit of some sort.

"What are you looking at? This is official Thalmor business. Keep walking," sneered one of them, who wore some no doubt high quality, expensive robes. Probably the man in charge. 

"Nothing, sir," I mumbled. 

"Good, now move along."

By Mephala, these Thalmor bastards are snotty. Wonder who shoved a staff in his backside? 

Upon reaching the gates of Riften, a guard blocked the entrance. "No entry without paying the visitor's tax."

"Visitor's tax?" I scoffed. "What kind of scam is this?" 

The other guard, who wasn't blocking the entrance, mumbled, "give it up, she's not paying. You know how dark elves are." 

"Excuse me?" I looked at him, my hand resting on my sword. 

"No need to get violent, ma'am."

"Perhaps you shouldn't scam people," I said. The guard that blocked the entrance shook his head and stepped aside. 

"Just go in, elf," he said.

I ignored his comment and continued into the city. After seeing the Thalmor beating that Nord, I expected Riften to be run down and a lot smaller than it was, but it seemed like a nice enough place. In the market square stood a crowd of people, marveling over a man with long red hair. I couldn't hear what the man said, but part of me was curious. A rather intimidating Nord woman approached me when I headed towards the inn. "Are you new to Riften?"

"Yes, actually, I am," I admitted. 

"You look pretty rough, you should see someone about that armor of yours." 

"Oh, no, you don't say. This isn't the first time someone has said that to me," I said sarcastically.

"Have you no manners? Do you know who I am?" 

"No, I'm sorry. I haven't been in Skyrim long. Should I know who you are?"

"I'm Maven Black-Briar. My name carries weight here in Riften. Perhaps you should think before you speak so rudely to strangers, hmm?"

"You're right, I'm terribly sorry, miss. Do you know where the nearest blacksmith is? And if they can repair enchanted armor?" I asked.

She pointed to the far right, just past the market square. "The man you're looking for is Balimund. He has run that smithy for decades." 

"Thank you, miss," I said, reaching out to shake her hand. She declined, lowering her hand to her side. 

"Don't mention it," she said, walking towards the square. 

This Maven woman seems shady. I should probably stay away from her, make a note to self or something.

I took Maven's advice and walked over to the Scorched Hammer, hoping that I had enough gold to get my armor fixed so I wouldn't have to hear about it anymore.


End file.
